University of Virginia Library

4. CHAPTER IV.

When the young sailor in the watch-coat
and glazed hat leaped upon the deck of the
shallop, the mysterious approach and departure
of which, added to the display of lights,
had aroused the suspicions of Cæsar, he
was grasped by the hand and welcomed
with,

`I was afraid you would have given us up
and would not have been found. But it blew
so hard outside that, although my little “Walk-in-the-water,”
wanted to go with the lid in
her teeth, yet if I had let her run, she would
have ran under! So I had to reef close and
bring her to the wind and that half
a dozen times to keep her afloat, and you
see we are half full of water now.'

`Is all ready?' he asked of him with animation,
as he put the helm hard down, to let
the shallop move away from the pier.

`Yes, I have been very impatient at your
delay, fearing you would not come. But I
have, as you see, had faith in you, notwithstanding
the storm in which it seemed noth
ing could swim on the water but a gull.
When did you leave the cape?'

`At three this afternoon. The storm took
me just as I had weathered the Half-way
Rock, and since then, I have been kept busy
enough. If it had not been for the flashes of
lightning, I should never have found my way
into the harbor. But I watched these and
took my bearings for the next one, and so I
let her drive! But it has been a whistling gale,
and hasn't blowed its cheeks out yet. Now
let me know the news? What is done for
me? Is there any hope?

`Can you leave the deck and go below?
Here the wind blows to hard to speak.'

`Then I will wait till we reach the cove.
This is too dangerous navigation in the
darkness for me to trust any hand but
my own. You see we have to keep luffing
and putting away to avoid the vessels at
anchor about us. But I shall make the run
in a few minutes more! Have you seen
Bel?' This was asked with some hesitation

and feeling, and a slight flush of the cheek,
for the light in the binnacle shown full upon
his face, which was that of a dark, handsome
and resolute looking young man of four and
twenty, wrapped in a seaman's storm coat
and cap.

`Yes,' answered the other in a half-tone,
as if he did not care to speak then about the
person alluded to.

`She is still—'

`Still firm as ever.'

`Well, I must submit as I can. I feel that
the course I am pursuing is right, whatever
her views may be touching me and my
character.'

`She esteems you and has—'

`I don't ask Bel's esteem. It is her love
I need,' replied he imperatively.

`But let it pass now. I must give my attention
to the shallop.'

Thus speaking he turned his face away as
if to conceal any emotion that might be
upon it, for his voice had been tremulous as
he uttered the last few words. They were
now close in with an island which each instant
rose darker and larger before them.
The little town and its docks and shipping
was rapidly disappearing astern, the outlines
of the town looking, in the distance, like that
of a vast serrated ridge. The shallop skirted
the island for about half a mile close hauled
to the wind and then steered direct for a cove
that was on its north side. As the schooner
entered it, the land seemed to embrace and
enclose it, and when the anchor was dropped
there was visible only a narrow outlet showing
where the shallop had come in.

The shores of this sheltered spot were
overhung by trees, and the water was perfectly
calm, for the wind did not reach it to disturb
it. The steersman of the schooner directed
her course so near a large rock imbedded
on the edge of the shore at the upper
extremity of the cove, that one could
step upon it from the bows.

`Although I lay the shallop against the
rock, I have to anchor her with the kedge
lest the ebb should draw her out,' said the
master of the shallop. `Now, Gordon, shall
we go on shore to the cattle-keeper's cabin,
or shall I listen to you here.'

`I had best let you know, Hugh, before
we land, what I have to tell you,' answered
Gordon, `for I have more to say than I care
a third party should hear, however faithful he
may be.'

`Then let us below, Croft,' said Hugh
Ogilvie, to one of the three men he had with
him. `I want you to keep the deck and hold
sharp watch. The boys can sleep, as they
have been worked hard. Call me if you see
any thing to excite your attention.'

`Aye, aye, sir! Tom Croft, 'll do that.'
responded the old seaman in a bluff, blunt
voice. `I am not a bloody marine to neglect
duty when any thing's to be done. Let the
boys sleep if they will. Tom Croft can see
more and farther with half an eye, in the
dark, than both of 'em at noon day.'

With these words the tough old tar; who
was very short in the body and neck and
wore enormous whiskers, which were only
exceeded by his montrous duck trowsers, as
wide as petticoats, took a fresh quid and
rolled aft. The two boys, who were hardy
young fishermen's sons, did not wait a second
time to be permitted to sleep, but casting
themselves into the folds of the foresail, they
were both asleep ere Tom had shut up his
jack knife and replaced it with his tobacco in
his pocket.

The cabin in which Hugh Ogilvie conducted
his guest was small, for his vessel
was small, but it had an air of sailor-like comfort
that compensated for its narrow dimensions.
There were berths for four persons,
two on each side and as they were concealed
by crimson drapery, they did not offend the
eye, while the hangings themselves, were ornamental.
The transom at the after-part of
the cabin was covered with a cushion, and
made a convenient lounge, In the centre of
the cabin was a round table, above which
hung a very handsome tell-tale compass.—

Over the transom was a small book-case containing
a few nautical books, and a rack for
charts. On the table stood a pair of candles,
one of which was lighted. On the opposite
sides of the table, were camp stools.

`My accommodations are not very large,'
said Hugh Ogilvie, as he entered the cabin,
`but they will do very well for my present
purpose. Now, my friend Gordon, sit down
and let me hear all you have to say.
Here is the letter which reached me early this
morning at Gloucester. It explains nothing!'
As he spoke he took from a drawer of the
table a letter and laid it before Gordon, who
had already seated himself on one of the
camp-stools. Gordon mechanically opened
the letter and glanced his eye over it, though
his mind was evidently upon a subject wholly
foreign to it.

The contents of the epistle were as follows:

When Hugh Ogilvie, received this letter,
he was on board the shallop, which was disguised
as a fishing smack, and he himself
wore the dress of a cape fisherman. He at
once replied to it as follows, bidding the
messenger to retrace the thirty miles back to
Boston, with the best speed his horse could
bear him. His answer to Gordon, was
couched in few words:

We have seen at what risks and recklessness
of wind and wave he performed his
promise.

`Now for what thou hast to tell me,' he
said, as he took a seat opposite his friend
`I have waited full patiently.' And he placed
his elbows upon the table and rested his
chin in his hands, as he fixed his clear earnest
dark eye upon the face of Gordon Hays.

There was a striking contrast between the
two young men, as they sat facing each
other, the light of the candle falling full upon
them' Gordon was of slight make, with
a fair countenance lighted up by a clear blue
eye full of fire and intelligence. He was
rather pale and would have looked effeminate
but for the resolute shape of his mouth
and firm chin. Decision and energy composed
the characteristic expression of his
countenance.

Hugh, on the contrary, was naturally dark,
and sun-browned still more by exposure. His
person was tall and stout without grossness,
his air bold and manly and the expression of
his countenance, that of a man of courage
and determination. His large dark eyes were
exceedingly fine, and his mouth and teeth being
handsome, he was a remarkably good-looking
young man. It was plain that he
was every inch a sailor. Gordon, too, wore
not only the outer garments of a seaman,
but as he dropped the heavy watch-coat from
his shoulders, the anchor buttons glistened
on the cuffs of his blue jacket, showing that
he was attached to the navy. But in his appearance
he was more scholastic than nautical,
as if he had explored libraries rather
than seas, nevertheless he was a sailor and a
thorough one, pale of cheek and slight of
make as he was. The buttons upon his
sleeve he was entitled to, both by rank and
profession.

`You asked me to tell you what has
transpired, Hugh;' he said after a few
moments' thoughtful silence, `and to explain
why I brought you down here by my letter.
In it, I wrote briefly that I saw the governor
and that he refused my prayers.'

`Tyrant!' muttered Hugh, with deep emphasis.
`When did you see him?'

`Tuesday, that is yesterday morning about
eleven o'clock.'

`Did you not press it upon him? Did you
take his “no,” and leave?'

`I used every argument that my love for
you, my sympathy for your father, that humanity
or mercy could dictate. He answered
that he was sorry that he could not con
sistently with his oath, pardon and release
one who had been committed and sentenced.
I plead the respectability and wealth of your
father. But he made this an objection to
clemency, saying that the poor would cry out
“Partiality.”'

`And he would sacrifice my father to this
out-cry! I am sorry, now, since I have
taken such steps as I have, that I suffered
you to lower yourself by asking a favor of
the selfish tyrant. You are satisfied then,
that there is no hope of pardon?' he added
with a faltering voice.

`None, whatever.'

`Not even Bella's influence? Oh, that
she, whom he so loves and idolizes, that she
were my friend! One word from her would
obtain his pardon.'

`I have no doubt of it. He could hardly
refused her any favor. She can fold him
about her fingers at her will.'

`Do you not suspect she has found out my
plan and influenced her uncle?' ventured
Hugh, but cautiously, as if the suspicion
were too unfair torwards the maiden.

`No, no! Bel would not take any such a
part.'

`No, she would not! I wrong her. She
is all that is noble and good. I can't blame
her for casting off a lover whose father is to be
hanged. But I am very miserable nevertheless,
Gordon! I loved her as if earth owned
no other woman.'

`Be a man, Hugh! Be a man, and don't
let tears make you play the girl. Bel loves
you yet! It is only her pride that has
caused her to show the cold shoulder to you.'

`She hates me, that is very certain. Well,
I will not, cannot cease to love and worship
her. The sweet, dear memories of our past
joy, no power not even her hate, can deprive
me of. Does she speak of me?'

`No, Hugh, yet, believe me, I know you
are never absent from her thoughts.'

`If I could only think so!' he said with
a deep sigh of mingled sadness and pleasure.

`Be sure of it! But the hour waxes late.
I am here to tell you that there is no hope
of the governor's pardon, and that the plan
you proposed and which you have matured to
meet this contingency, remains to be carried
out, as the only one to be trusted to! I will
now state how far I have gone towards
bringing about my part.'